Top 10 OxyContin Pills

This week, I traded my wisdom teeth for OxyContin pills of wisdom.

OxyContin #1: Now maybe oral surgery is on the lower end of “grave” as far as surgeries go, but it seems there really should be some sort of code against anesthetizing people in a tiny fourth-floor business suite.

OxyContin #2: The last thing cringers to all things vein-related want to hear is their surgeon comparing the quest for the perfect IV vein to a fishing expedition. “Hmm. We might have to move upstream to find a good one, but let’s see if we can’t find us a big one here first.”

OxyContin #3: More wise words from the Dr. Wisdom Fisher: “If after the surgery you find when you try to drink water it comes straight through your nose, well, then we’ll know we’ve got something to fix.”

Thanks for testing bodily hydraulics before the patient leaves the building.

OxyContin #4: With oral surgery there is also the risk of damaging a delicate nerve, barely a blip on the X-ray, that runs below the gums through the lower lip. Numbness usually goes away after three hours, but to a patient on emotion-inducing pain meds, those three hours with a numb hippo lip is life-devastating, filled with premonitions of wearing bibs in restaurants and slurping gruel like the Beast.

Be thankful for that little nerve.

OxyContin #5: Nerve damage or no, wisdom tooth extraction requires the surgeon to crank the jaw open so much so that even opening it to fit a spoon in and out requires effort equal to removing the Sword from the Stone. Unfortunately the only way around this utensil challenge is licking applesauce straight from the jar. You can imagine the mess with the added handicap of a numb lip.

OxyContin #6: You know you have some high commodity pain prescriptions after the pharmacist tries to give you “Marissa Hoover’s” measly antibiotics and your demand for your identity and its rightful narcotics creates a Spanish Inquisition into who the true Jessica Hoover is and why she needs five narcotics prescriptions from the neighborhood Walgreen’s. Foul play afoot, Marissa Hoover. I’m on to you.

OxyContin #7: And you can’t trust anybody. Your mother, for your safety and addiction prevention, will purposely “hide” the pill bottles while she is gone for the day, leaving you high and, well, not high, but dry, and in pain.

OxyContin #8: When a mid-day storm blows through causing a tree to fall in one’s backyard, thereby uprooting two smaller trees, which smash the dog fence and a good portion of the roof, all just one branch shy of an OxyContin-induced slumberer, good luck (one) waking up and (two) convincing your family you really aren’t hallucinating . . . this time.

OxyContin #9: Don’t social network while under the influence. While you may not have the strength to sit at a desk and use a computer, here’s when the “convenience” of the mobile web on your phone betrays you.

OxyContin #10: Bed-ridden and comatose on pain meds is hardly an excuse for lack of cardiac exercise. The old ticker gets plenty of cardio pumping from heart-racing recurring nightmares of being trapped in a mahogany mansion hiding for your life from Cyclops sea creatures in basement wardrobes while, with the strike of each hour, a new army of villains, in progressive historical time periods, flood the spiraling staircases raging war curses while they hunt you. It’s like playing “Jumanji” amid clash of “Narnia” (all 7) and “Night at the Museum” (1 & 2) in every battle for Middle Earth.

Missed item this week: A right mind?

Peace out Brussels sprouts.